Reunion
by Charlie Laurenz
Summary: Chloe Sinclair is your everyday, rebellious artist. But when she meets a man by the name of Merlin, her whole world gets turned upside down. He says he's waiting on someone, a king and friend of his. Who is this once king of Albion and why has he come back?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, I've never written anything for Merlin before, so we'll just see how this turns out O.O**

"Earth to Chloe!" I glanced up from my sketchbook to see Emma Greene frantically waving at me. Emma was an alright girl, she wasn't exactly my friend, but she was nice enough. I smiled at her, pulling the earbuds from my ears and saying a silent farewell to Anthony Kiedis.

"Emma, what's up?"

She huffed and puffed as she stopped in front of me. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Why?"

"Doctor Badgley wants to meet with you. Told me so at the end of class."

I felt my brows scrunch together in confusion. Doctor Badgley was a mean, old professor of art history. Not to mention he hated me. _Hated _me. Like, if we lived in another era, he would have killed me and burned my house to the ground hated me. "Are you sure? Because that guy hates me."

"Chloe Sinclair, I did not just walk the entirety of Oxford for you to not meet with that old bastard. Get your lazy ass off that grass and go already."

"Okay, okay. Geeze, Emma, someone's got their bitchy pants on today." I packed up my pencils and sketchbook quickly, making a point to walk hurriedly past Emma. I was in my last year of college at NYU and had decided to spend my summer abroad at Oxford University. So far, the best part was the local pub, not that I had told my parents that.

I was an art major, that in itself had irritated my father. "Why don't you do something useful? Business or something?" He had scoffed when I told him what I wanted to do. While I had always been good at art, neither of them had ever considered it a viable career option. Of course it didn't help I had been arrested multiple times during high school for public defamation of property.

But I saw the world as my own personal canvas. And the overwhelming desire to express myself through art was completely foreign to them. It had taken all my self control to not put my 'Resistance' stencil somewhere on one of the old buildings on Oxford's campus. I had the stereotypical rebel spirit associated with artists and it hadn't done me any favors.

When I came home with my nose pierced my first semester, I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack. She had made me swear to not get any tattoos, so of course as soon as I got back to New York I got four. When I wasn't in class or tagging buildings, I worked in a local coffee shop. It gave me plenty of connections and what artist didn't like coffee? There were always cool, local bands and I had one musician I like in particular.

His name was Ryan Wilcox and he was gorgeous. His music was the closest thing to modern day Shakespeare I'd ever heard. And he was obscenely good looking. We'd exchanged numbers and flirtations quite a bit but nothing had ever come from it. But a girl could dream, right?

I stopped at Doctor Badgley's office and rapped on the ancient wooden door. He motioned me inside and I stood in front of him awkwardly, waiting for the shouting to begin. "Miss Sinclair, have a seat."

My confusion betrayed me as I sat in the chair. I picked at my already chipping nail polish with anxiety. "I'm sure you're wondering why I requested to meet with you."

"Just a little bit, yeah."

"The fact remains, as much as I dislike your attitude and appearance," Well, at least he was honest. "That you have the most extensive knowledge of art history out of your fellow students. I'm attending a conference in Cardiff next week and am in need of an assistant. I was rather hoping you would accompany me."

This was a joke, right? There was no way this guy could possibly be serious. "I'm sorry?"

"As you well know, I specialize in medieval art. Given your own penchant for the era, I cannot think, to my dismay, of someone more suited. So, will you come?"

While it was true that I dug the whole medieval era, it even influenced my own work, I wasn't sure I wanted to go on a road trip with my least favorite professor. "I don't know, Doctor Badgley-"

"Perhaps I should give you some motivation, hmm? If you agree to accompany me, consider your class with me finished."

"Finished?"

"I will ensure you receive a grade proportional to your assistance at the conference and you will not have to enter this room again and I will not have to tolerate your insufferable behavior anymore." He made it sound like I disrupted the class. Apparently, finishing the exams in five minutes was 'insufferable behavior'. Well, that and I was always late.

"I really won't have to come back?"

"No. Of course, you'll have to take that bloody thing out of your nose." His lips curled with disgust and I tapped my nose ring with my finger.

It was the best news I'd had all day, even if it meant I'd have to go without my nose ring for a few days. "How long is this conference?"

He scowled. "One week."

One week? That might be difficult. Still, if it meant never having to see the jerk again, I could live with that. "You've got yourself a deal, professor." I extended my hand forward and he took mine in his own.

"I'll see you at eight Monday morning. Oxford Station." I was halfway out the door when he called out, "Eight a.m. sharp, Miss Sinclair! Don't be late!"

I waved to him in dismissal, not bothering to look at him. Just one week. I could survive one week.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors shut immediately behind me as soon as I got into the train. My chest heaved up and down from the effort of running. I allowed myself to lean against the wall for a moment before setting out to find Doctor Badgley. After walking through three compartments, I found him sitting by a window to my left.

I fell into the seat across from him, tossing my duffle into the seat beside me. "By the skin of your teeth, Miss Sinclair." He stated blandly, not so much as glancing at me from his newspaper.

"I made it, didn't I?" I growled, popping the top on my energy drink.

"You don't drink those vile things, do you?" My response was to take a massive gulp. "Ugh, fine. Kill your heart if you will, it's no concern of mine."

"I didn't have time to stop for coffee."

"Yes, because that's so much better."

"Are you always such an ass?"

He chuckled, the sound so foreign to me I would have fallen over if I wasn't sitting. "Here." Doctor Badgley placed a large file on the table between us with a 'thunk'.

"What is that?"

"The details of the conference."

"Right. What exactly am I supposed to be doing?"

"Proof read my lecture notes, help me carry my things, the usual."

"I see." I held the enormous collection of papers in my hands, not entirely sure of where to start. "Um, so what do you want me to start on first?"

"The top page."

"Oh." I opened the folder to see a blur of tiny print. "How can you read this? You're like three times my age and I can't even read this stuff."

"Perhaps if you spent more time reading and less time vandalizing public property, you wouldn't have the issue." I glowered at him from over the top of the file. He beamed with pride at his wit.

"You know, Doc, I'm looking forward to the end of this week."

"As am I, Miss Sinclair. As am I."

We made several connection trains along the way, neither of speaking to the other again. It suited me perfectly fine, I sat with a red pen in hand and earbuds in my ears. I had just finished correcting the section on 1380 to 1381 when the train began to slow. Doctor Badgley was saying something but I couldn't hear him over "Epic" blaring in my ears. Sighing, I hit the pause button on my iPod and looked at him expectantly.

"It's a miracle you can still hear, given the volume you play that rubbish!" He exclaimed with annoyance.

"Did you actually have something useful to say or are you just going to harp on my music habits?"

His jaw clenched and I suppressed a grin. "I was merely suggesting you gather your things as we're nearly there."

"Aye, aye, sir!" I shot him a salute and heaved my duffel with one arm, the other grasping the file of paperwork.

"One week," He muttered to himself as we exited the compartment. "Just one week, Harold. You can survive one week..."

We made our way to a cab and I allowed Doctor Badgley to state our destination. I was a bit preoccupied with how cold the city was. It was summer. The entire island of Britain was just strange in terms of weather and I realized I was likely never going to get used to it. If I had been in Manhattan, it would have been sweltering by now. Maybe that's why Doctor Badgley was so irritable all the time...

"Page thirty-seven! Come on girl, now!" He held his hand out expectantly and I quickly rummaged through the stack of papers. I handed it to him and he snatched it from my grasp. I heard him mutter something about "incompetence" as he searched the page for something.

The cab pulled up to the hotel and I sighed wearily. Surely, I didn't have to go to dinner with this guy. My plan was to get to my room and take a nap. I waited impatiently at the check-in desk, my entire leg bouncing as I waited. "Will you please stop that?" Doctor Badgley hissed. "You look like your leg is having a spasm."

"Maybe it is. A spasm of boredom."

"Oh, do grow up Miss Sinclair."

"Don't think I will."

From the corner of my eye, I saw someone move in the corner. Naturally, I turned to look at what I just seen. He was somewhere around my age, maybe a year older, with black hair and blue eyes. And those cheekbones! You could stab someone with those things. He met my gaze for a moment and I became aware of something strange. There was a sense of ancient power to him and I shivered at the thought. He was just some guy. Just an ordinary guy. I looked away instantly and resumed my leg rocking.

"Alright, I suppose I'll allow you two hours to get caught up on everything before we leave. Your room is upstairs, two-oh-three. Here." He handed me a key card and I pocketed it instantly. I felt the hairs on my neck rise up; the man in the corner was still staring at me and I shifted my weight nervously.

"And what about your room?"

"Tosh! You don't need to know that."

"Well, you are really old. What if there's an emergency? How am I supposed to help?"

Doctor Badgley's hazel eyes narrowed into slits. "One-twenty-seven. Do not, under any circumstances, interrupt me."

"Save for an emergency?"

"Make sure it's an actual emergency." His brows raised pointedly and I glanced nervously at the man still staring behind me.

"Yeah, sure thing."

He tottered off muttering curses at me and I stood awkwardly, peering over my shoulder. He was still there. Still staring. I found myself shrinking from the constant examination. This was ridiculous. Annoyed, I heaved my bag upward and over my shoulder, deciding to go to my room and forget about the strange guy in the corner. The entire way up the stairs, he stared. _He's just some weirdo, Chloe. Let it go._ But I had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last time I saw him.


End file.
